Art, Poetry, books, novels

Saturday, December 31, 2016

Resolution


New Year's Resolution


Dating sites don't bring relationships, the sea of attention fills a birdbath the size of the Pacific Ocean called a heart. No, that sounds bitter, there are nice people on there, I'm a crummy picker.


An adult relationship stalls when the one party fails to introduce their children or include holidays or is often sick at the last minute.

Years of caring wore my boots, soles have holes and stitches in the sides leak. Work boots need softening. Step on summer rocks and frozen puddles makes leather fit around your bad toes. The nail of the big toe becomes ingrown from repeated pounding. A heifer gave her hide for riding boots. It’s not the climb uphill that breaks a soul, it’s the down curves when sliding on clay kills.


It’s been a spell arriving. Butterfly lighting is a trick to make a portrait flattering. Shade wrinkles with light. Recite poetry in the cabin, say the rosary to the cows bellowing on the hillside while I garden, and no longer wear makeup on the weekends or spend money on packaged beauty products. Rose petals, lavender pods and organic herbs are in my secret creams.


Haze grew after infidelity. Stool too close to a pink sweater in the bar. Incoming nasty messages and hacked places I frequent.

You cried. Things warmed for a moment, then returned to amusement park physics. Everyone said to give it up. But I am no quitter.


I lied about the joy verses pain scale, then I decided your dip in dots were too expensive and I am cheap. I don’t feel better, I know in the future this opens a place for a partner to come in who treasures me. Time doesn’t heal, don’t let them tell you that garbage. Our minds play tricks to create new wiring and life circuits are busy. I'd pray for wisdom but the God I believe in doesn't get involved in changing events in our lives on earth. Free will to love, free will to miss, free to hike on.

 I hold you in highest regard and wish you well.

New Year is a start. Time for me to care for myself.





Carole Stevenson

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I know this man. As a woman I am so sorry. It took me 12 years to move him on. 
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